Monthly Musings: July 2012

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Nicotine Dreams: Jobs and Buses

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams.

During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

No nicotine patch.

I was laying on my bed, looking at a shift rota; my brother Terry was sat my computer chair. The bedroom was laid out how mine used to be in the past. Me and Terry both had gotten jobs at a Co-op on Hamil Road, though I don’t actually think there even is one?? I was working 3 days in a row, Terry too, though our shifts overlapped with me finishing at 7pm and him at 10pm, varying between the days. I was debating whether to even go, since it would affect my tax bracket my usual job.

Then Me and JB were catching a bus together down Smallthorne bank; some overweight, elder redhead woman was making comments to her daughter about JB’s appearance saying it was due to him not having his fix of MCAT. I asked her what she’d said, and she muttered under her breath and looked intimidated. We got on the bus and JB asked what was said but I kept it a secret because I felt JB would kick off.

Next I’m walking around my Dad’s house naked? Maria Walsh is sat at a PC in the small box room, and I’m stood peering round the door talking to her so she can’t see anything beside my head, but she is flirting with me. Then I make a comment about a TV in the room being out of place, that it doesn’t belong there, and then I awoke.

Anotha B: I'm Not Okay

Nicotine Dreams: Toilets and Fairgrounds

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

25mg patch.

I was on a farm that begins with “W” though I cannot recall it’s full name; there is a fairground beside it, and the farm is a sort of resort? I am in a bar area and Dave Mackenzie is there, he offers to get me a drink, but I have to pay for it? I don’t even remember having the drink, or even seeing what it was, though I gave him the money for it?

I go into the toilets and am stood by a urinal but struggling to urinate for some reason? Two girls approach from behind me and start pressing themselves against me, biting my ear and licking my neck, asking why I can’t urinate and if it’s because I’m shy. There is a blonde to my left, and a brunette to my right; I tell them I am not shy. I lean behind me, and myself and the blonde flick tongues together, and then I bite the brunettes bottom lip. I suddenly notice three twenty pence pieces in the urinal beside the standard yellow fragranced block. The girls vanish.

Suddenly I notice Tom Walker staggering about smiling too himself, blatantly hammered. He is stood by a cubicle door but failing to open it, then slips on urine and faceplants in it. He is struggling to get up, slipping about like he is breakdancing, laughing all the while amused at his inability to return to his feet. A small child is stood nearby crying because he needs the toilet but is intimidated by Tom.

I am outside now, walking through a field alongside some trees; I am with another couple of people but I cannot recall who? We walk across a really busy road, and I am nearly hit by a car twice. We reach the otherside and it is like a promenade overlooking the sea. I realise I have left my drink at the bar, so say I’m going back to get it. I cross over and pass through an arcade back out into the fields. I am walking past lots of people, and I tap someone on the arm because I think it’s my friend Gary Hughes; the lad turns around and looks nothing like him, notably because he has ginger hair. His friends are laughing at my case of mistaken identity. 

I walk around some trees and climb over a small metal railing into the fairground. There are rides spinning around very aggressively and I nearly get hit by one, having to press my back to a metal post. I hear a voice shout my name, telling me to look up at the “dolphin”; I look up instinctively to my right at a rollercoaster and can see my Dad, stepmum Ang and my brother Terry at the top of a drop, waving emphatically. I walk alongside the tracks and stop beside my little sister Laura who is the other side of a railing, right beside the track to the ride. I’m alarmed at first but look past her and see a buggy there too which reassures me for some reason? I walk off and into a nearby building with a reception area to my right, into a bedroom, and then I wake up.

Nicotine Dreams: Locations and Wallets

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

25mg patch.

I was at my Mum and Dawns house with Terry sat on the settee; Terry does not speak to my Mum and hasn’t in a while. Mark is there too, my sisters fiance, again someone who does not speak to my Mum or Dawn. Anyway, Mark and Dawn go upstairs, so Mark can cut Dawns hair; there is a momentary pause, and they both reappear through the living room door. Dawn has had her hair cut, skinhead on top, with it still long at the sides; they are both laughing hysterically, and as a result me, Terry and Mum also start laughing confused at the situation. What the fuck?

Dawn goes into the kitchen to make a drink, gets a small stool and puts a beaker on it and starts farting into the beaker (don’t ask)!? Terry announces he needs to leave because of working the next day, and I agree that I think I will leave too; I am aware of the time, it’s 3pm though I don’t know the relevance. We both walk outside, but then I go back in because I realise I haven’t said goodbye to anyone; I sit back down and seemingly forget that Terry is waiting in the car. 

Suddenly I’m walking through a hallway that I acknowledge as home, although it is alien to me. I enter a brightly lit lounge, and I find Steph Hand unconscious on a sofa; she is absolutely plastered. I lift her gently off the sofa and carry her out into the street, I don’t know why? I am walking down the street with Steph in my arms, and she is waking up. She looks up at me and asks what is going on, to which I reply that I thought she was going home and coming back because she had to go work. She says that she ended up out drinking with her friends and I explain she was passed out hammered on my sofa. I continue carrying her down the street, down a slight bank, and all the house have my name as the property name; “BEN SCOTT”. 

Next thing I know I am walking into Kirsty’s house; my ex fiancee. Kirsty begins telling me that her Kaz (her Mum), and Peter Teague have been editing photographs of me and renaming the files so that my name as offensive things.

I enter a bar holding a load of paperwork, and my leather wallet and join my younger sister Samantha, and my older sister Stacey at a large round table. I am trying to make sense of the paperwork, and am explaining it to Stacey, but Samantha keeps talking over me finishing my sentences with stupid suggestions which is really infuriating me. The paperwork holds some relevance to my tenancy for my house, and I am convinced it is an eviction notice for some reason? 

I get up from the table and walk to the toilets leaving the paperwork and my wallet there, which is something I’d never do. It dawns on me in the dream that I have left my wallet behind, but I have my other Diesel wallet in my pocket? I hurry back to the bar area, bumping into Lizzy Jones and Leanne Phillips on the way, but just offer passing acknowledgement since I’m in a hurry. I get back near the table, and Ryan Wilson is there talking to a stranger holding my wallet asking if he wants a drink of vodka, indictating he will pay with my money. I reach for my wallet but Ryan pulls away and I catch hold of his little finger; I bend it back and wrest the wallet from him. I check to make sure that all my money is in there and there is around £80, although a single £5 is rolled up which I am conscious to keep secret.

I get back to the table and JB is now there too; there is a plate of waffles, chicken nuggets and beans where I was sat, and my sister Stacey advises me that someone has paid for it with my debit card for a joke so I will need to send it back and get my money back. A pretty blonde waitress appears and offers me £3.80 although the menu says the meal only costs £3. I query the difference in price and the waitress says that the price goes up at times of the day, so because it costs more now than when it was ordered I get a higher refund? Huh? Stacey starts eating some of the food off the plate, even though I’ve had a refund.

And then I awaken.

Nicotine Dreams: Gunplay and Partying

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

25mg Nicotine Patch

I was in a sort of big old warehouse in a snowy field stood in a bar area with seating arrangements etc. My sofa was there. Me, Terry and Chris Clark start moving the sofa so that the area is more accommodating. We are dressed in army clothes and have guns, and we go outside and it’s like Call of Duty and we are shooting attackers who are running through the snow trying to get to our bar.

I flank past some snowy conifers and get into the enemies base which is open topped with lots of cover; I sneak into a small makeshift garage, like a chain-link fence, and metal panels knocked together to form a small outbuilding with a strange armoured car inside. I crouch up the corner in the shadows behind the car and start picking off enemies who can’t tell where I am shooting from. They pick up on my location and start to all come straight for me. I’m killing them, and then a bloke is next to me on the other side of the chain-link; I’m trying to shoot him but can’t? Then another enemy runs in from the side and stabs me in the neck with a sort of dagger?

I respawn in my own base and tell Terry proudly I am on a 12-1 kill to death streak, and then I see an enemy trying to flank our base via a path down a cliff. I hurry through the base telling everyone I have it covered. I go out the back of the building and round a small ledge in the dark, overlooking the underpass. There are a couple here, a man and woman lying down; the woman is on her back with the bloke between her legs. They are scouting; I can only imagine I know this because it’s my dream, and because they seem out of place. I shoot the man in the face and he falls down the cliff. The woman is panicking and trying to wolf whistle to the enemy trying to flank our base; I try to shoot her but have to reload, and by the time I kill her she has already signaled a retreat. I try to shoot the fleeing enemy but he is too far away and due to the distance I have no accuracy. Suddenly the enemy falls to the floor dead, and I turn a corner to see my director from work Bill Gilroy who tells me not to worry, he got him.

Then we are all back inside the base kicking grenades at enemies? We are pulling out the pins and then kicking them like footballs and blowing all the enemies up. I can remember camping overlooking a ramp and shooting enemies and directing my team where to kick the grenades.

Next thing I know I’m down Stoke with Michelle Anchors, we’re walking along London Road towards Sainsburys and she isn’t happy with me? She is trying to hurry away but I’m keeping up with her asking what is up but she won’t tell me, so I’m following her confused. We get closer to a building and she bursts out that it’s all my fault for telling JB mine and her secret? I don’t know what secret. Then she goes inside a building and locks the door; I’m calling out with no response and I can’t get in so I leave.

I’m walking towards the Wheatsheaf, and outside the Blockbuster is a seating area in the road? Rob Lowe and Steve Davies are there having a pint, I walk over and am met with an unexpected response; both of them are really confrontational towards me saying I always find excuses not to hang out, and then expect to just turn up when I choose and everything to be rosy. I walk off into the Blockbuster but it isn’t a Blockbuster if you get how I mean?

I’m with my brother Terry inside a car; it’s the Batmobile out of The Dark Knight. We are in some kind of arena with tall structures, and we are doing laps around the outside, jumping over obstacles really fast with Terry driving. I feel really happy and carefree. Suddenly I’m driving and we pull inside a big elevator inside the car. I am reversing and edging forward impatiently and Terry tells me to stop because it will jam the engine, but not to put the brakes on? There is a random guy in a red shirt complimenting the car, and I’m being really smarmy and arrogant about it, saying it’s the best ever and nobody else deserves one.

Suddenly I’m in a room sniffing cocaine with loads of people I don’t know; except Michelle is here again now? We are planning some sort of rave/party. We are on the Green now, a field by my Mum’s house, but there are lots of tall wooden structures with banners hanging from them. There are shit loads of people here. Me, Michelle and someone else who I cannot recall climb up a sort of wooden scaffold and start dancing at the top.

We look down and Justin Bieber is in the crowd; Michelle starts climbing down and goes over to him whilst we stay dancing. Michelle shouts up that Justin likes her yellow flip-flops and then they disappear into the crowd and leave. I continue dancing, and then I woke up.

Nicotine Dreams: Tower and Falling

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

*Woke up this morning with the nicotine patch nowhere to be seen; presumably if came off during my sleep which explains the lack of recall*

I was in a large tower with a wooden floor. The bricks were large grey concrete blocks, and there were wooden beams and rafters suspended above providing support to the structure. There was some light source, but I don’t recall exactly what it was. I think I was with my brother Terry, but I’m not so sure now as I write this up; there was definitely someone else with me.

We were climbing up the inside of the tower looking for something, but I cannot recall what. We started to get significantly high inside the tower, climbing from beam to beam, and the other male expressed concern that we still hadn’t found what we were searching for and it may make more sense to go “downwards instead of upwards, just like before”. I don’t know what the “just like before” referred too, but I jumped down from what must have been 50ft, and smashed through the wooden flooring, landing on another level of the building made of wood; like platforms around 10ft apart. The other male dropped down from the same sort of height too, breaking the floor on which I was standing, and we both began falling into the darkness, infinitely, endlessly. Then I awoke.

*I also recall a small memory of being stood beside a wall smoking weed with another male, though I cannot recall if/where this fell into this dream, or if it were a sole remembered fragment from another dream this night* 

Nicotine Dreams: Fighting and Floating

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I’m walking around a huge warehouse; I come up a flight of stairs and am stood amongst lots of stacked crates and metal mechanical machinery. I am barefoot. I don’t know why I am here. I seem to be following commands. I walk across a small bridge and there is a small rat following me everywhere, I’m very cautious about it biting my feet so I’m jumping across crates and pipes like Assassins Creed; this is probably the source of this being in my dream since I’ve played the games a lot lately.

I get toward the back of the warehouse, and there is an opening to outside where there is a small swimming pool with a metal pole reaching up into the clouds, with a ladder going up it for about 10ft. I swim across in the water fully clothed and begin climbing the ladder; once I get to the top, I let go of the ladder and begin to float upwards facing the ground, up, up and into the clouds until visibility is almost none existent. Then I drop… I fall fast, complete release and free of cares. I fall all the way back down and land in the water on my back. I recall it feels very refreshing and vitalising.

I go back into the warehouse and I am wearing a white sort of Juggernaut suit off Call of Duty, but still barefoot. I become aware I need to get a key from the garage at the other end of the warehouse, but I don’t know how I know this? I head to the garage, open a silver chest high bolt, and open the door; directly opposite lots of soldiers are entering the room, so I quickly retreat into the dark of the warehouse and hide behind a machine.

The soldiers are entering the room looking frantically for me. I am picking up lots of guns and they vanish as I pick them up. I begin singling out isolated soldiers and beating them up. Then I see Ashley Taylor, and I run over and punch him in the face breaking his jaw. I hear a voice say that he’s going to get knocked out, and as he turns I punch him again in the mouth and he falls to the floor unconscious. Next, Dave Corden appears and I calmly ask if he wishes to try and fight me; he consents and says why not. I begin punching him and then Mariie appears and asks what the hell is going on, and why I am hitting Corden? I explain that he agreed to it, and then everyone else disappears besides me and a pretty stranger, a half cast girl dressed in a light blue top and shorts. I calmly take her by the hand, lead her outside into the sunshine and pin her against a glass door and begin passionately kissing her.

Then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: School and Food

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was back in school, my high school James Brindley with Darren Wright, a lad I saw last night which may explain his presence in my dream; he never went to high school with me. I was there for a one hour IT lesson as a reunion.

We were walking through the corridors and I had no footwear on, just socks; I was looking for my trainers but didn’t know where they were. I was glancing into classrooms as we passed and seeing nobody I knew, except for I recall seeing Kirsty Bithell in one of the rooms. Strange since I barely know her and don’t think I’ve thought about her for maybe 6yrs? Forgot she even existed to be honest. I found my trainers in one of the rooms, I spied them beside a table as I walked past so went in to retrieve them and swiftly left the room.

I don’t know where Darren disappeared to at this point; I was sat alone against a wall by the school toilets and a girl approached me and asked if I’d look after her children whilst she nipped somewhere. I agreed, and she left me with 2 kids, a toddler maybe 3yrs old, and a tiny baby; but the baby looked too old to be the size they were, full head of blonde curly hair etc? I just recall them having the biggest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I looked up and the toddler had gone. I didn’t seem to care?

Next I was stood outside the school at the top of some steps holding the baby, with lots of people walking past. My Dad and stepmum Ang walked past me into the school and I said hello to both of them and gave Ang a kiss; a bloke was looking at me strangely, probably confused as to the relationship between me and her. The baby vanished and I was sat at the bottom of the steps with another lad I didn’t know. Three overweight girls were stood nearby, I’d say early twenties, and were discussing lesbianism; a further overweight girl turned up and they all started speaking of a lesbian threesome in which one would be “the fat mess in the middle”. I recall thinking something had hit the back of my head, so I leaned behind me and slapped what I believed to be the lad I didn’t recognise’s head. One of the girls said I’d slapped their arse; I’m not sure what actually happened to be fair?

Then I was walking through the corridors back inside the school, but having to duck to avoid hitting my head; I felt like Gandalf on Lord of the Rings when he is inside Bilbo Baggins house at the Shire. I emerge into the reception area and there is a huge table covered in food, like an open buffet. Darren Wright is back now and tells me you can help yourself to food to take in lesson. I get a small tub and start filling it with onions and cheese. I feel someone slap my arse and turn to the side and there is a pretty young girl there smiling at me. I start talking to her but can’t remember what about? Darren asks me to get him some food whilst he goes the toilet, so I take his plate too. I balance both on my arm and use my other to slap the girls arse as I walk away. I go around the corner and try to tip some of the food into a bin because I’d overfilled the plates but manage to drop both all over the floor. I look for a mop but end up with tissues which I start cleaning up with. A blonde teacher turns up and starts helping me to clean, I can see down the back of her trousers and she is wearing a frilly white thong. She has a weird sort of indent like a semi-sphere in her left bum cheek? I don’t know.

I go into the classroom which used to be for R.E. and sit at a computer. I’m playing a sort of GTA game and flying a plane, but the screen keeps looping. I try to fly out of the area, but I loop back round and turn back up where I started. This happens for what seems a long time. Then Bill, my director from work turns up and asks if I’ve had a productive hour, and I realise I’ve spent the entire last hour flying in loops on the GTA like game. Then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: Work and Possessions

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I am stood in a cross between a school corridor, and my Dad’s laundry room. There are people walking past casually as if it is a public thoroughfare. Dave Mackenzie is sat on the sideboard talking to me but I cannot recall what about.

For some reason I begin emptying my bag and pockets over the side and organising them all how I usually do due to my OCPD. I turn around for some reason, glance up the corridor and look back at the side and there are lots of additional items amongst my own. I panic and start collecting mine together through fear of losing something. I go to pick up what I believe to be my bus pass and an Asian man begins accusing me of stealing his possessions. I look down and my bus pass is in my hand, so I apologise explaining it was an honest mistake. 

Once the side is clear of all items, I begin frantically checking my pockets aware something is missing but I’m not sure what. I open my wallet and there are loads of photos of me on small credit card sized slips; and there is a photo of Brett Lovatt, one of my friends really prominent, and one of Leone Smith a girl I know. I realise it’s my mobile phone that is missing and begin looking for it. Dave points at a mobile phone laying on the floor implying that it is mine, I look at it and advise it’s not mine. Suddenly Matt Handy appears and claims the phone as his, then vanishes as quickly. I see my phone on the sideboard and pick it up relieved. 

There are two asians beside me now discussing a car claim; the shorter of the two asks my opinion on the situation, I laugh and tell him I ironically work in insurance. Before we can discuss anything further, Viv appears and begins angrily telling me I should not be discussing claims with clients outside of work; I attempt to explain that I haven’t said anything yet but she talks over me saying I could lose my job.

There is a gold pen on the sideboard, presumably one of the asians as it is alongside a claims report. I don’t know why but I decide I am going to steal it, so I slip it up my sleeve and conceal it by holding a red coffee cup with a black lid. The asians give up looking for the pen and leave, so I chuck the coffee cup on the side and go to leave myself in the opposite direction. Dave picks the cup off the side and chucks it in the bin, and looks at me disapprovingly.

Then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: Pills and Pubs

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was walking through a field with a group of others; I don’t know most of them but there are about 30 of us in total. We are following a guide, I think the easiest comparison I can make would be that it was like we are at paintball and being shown the course for that round, but nobody is in overalls or headguards, and nobody has paintball guns. I only recognise two of the other people here, one is my sister Stacey, and the other is my friend Fat Lee. We keep stopping and talking but I cannot remember what about.

We stop by everyones possessions that are heaped in a pile, in a clearing that leads between some trees. Fat Lee is playing comedian and keeps throwing peoples stuff, finally he grabs Stacey’s coat and chucks it past a pile of cutdown tree branches about 20ft away where it lands on top of a grass bank, like a hill. Stacey retaliates by throwing Lee’s white and yellow shell-suit jacket which ends up stuck up a tree. Fat Lee starts kicking off, until someone manages to get it down using a branch.

I get a phone call off Heathy asking if I’m going down “Cyber” to him - I have no idea what cyber is. He advises loads of others are going down. I say I’m not sure because of finances but I’ll let him know. He tries to persuade me saying they’re going to “TGI” after, presumably TGI Fridays? I hang up and get a text off Cunnie saying he’s got something he thinks I’ll like at my house.

Next thing I know I’m at “my house” with no idea how I got there; my house is actually my ex-girlfriend Kirsty’s house in my dream. My bedroom is the front bedroom, and I walk in but there is nothing there that shouldn’t be. This angers me because I’ve come back home for nothing. I walk out my room and hear Cunnie’s voice from what is usually Kaz’s bedroom beckoning me in. I walk in and he’s lying in bed half asleep with his Xoom; he tells me he has an app that senses movement which had woke him up. He produces a huge bag full of cocodamol pills and starts giving me handfuls of them telling me I’ll like them. I start putting them into my adidas bag, but Cunnie says it’s too slow and tips a load of them directly in with some spilling over the floor. I look into the bag and there are already loads of pills in it; red ones, pink ones and white ones. I go back into my bedroom and Craig Ferneo is sat at my computer desk watching a film on my PC. I get into bed like this is normal and go to sleep. When I wake up I try to remember what I dreamt about and get frustrated when I can’t recall anything; Craig has gone by now. 

Suddenly I’m in the White Horse Pub with Tomo and there is a fight kicking off; two blokes who’s faces I never see are heading towards the smoking area aggressively. Me and Tomo leave and as we cross the road to Aldi carpark there are two girls behind us; Tomo starts hurrying because he says he doesn’t want to speak to one of them. We reach Tomo’s car and get in and I show him all the pills in my bag. He starts reversing the car aggressively to impress the girls he tried to avoid and nearly hits a bus stop that is on the car park for some reason? The bus stop is right against the passenger door and Tomo edges back very nearly scraping the car against it; the girls are laughing at him. Tomo pulls off and accelerates away without making contact with the bus stop and as he pulls away definatly announces that nobody else could’ve avoided hitting it how he had. I wake up.

Nicotine Dreams: Sewers and Searching

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was with another male, I don’t recall who; at the time though I knew him. We were looking down into an open, circular manhole grate, I don’t recall the surrounding area. We didn’t speak, but both agreed somehow that we would go into the sewer.

I entered first, climbing down a rusted steel ladder. The length of the actual cylindrical entrance  was perhaps a couple of meters. The walls were covered with huge woodlice, the size of dvd cases, I kicked most of them away into the sewers, then slid down the remainder of the ladder which stopped level with the ceiling, and dropped down from there into the murky sewage water. The walls were grey stone, slimy and grimy; the air thick and misty. Visibility was low, but I could tell I was in a t-junction section. Metal grates, sort of portcullis’ blocked all exits from my location, and the ladder was too high above me for me to jump and reach it. There’s a strange black plant, kind of like black seaweed draping from the ceiling in the corners of the room.

I could see a closed valve on the floor in the centre of the t-junction intersection that led down into the ground. I never tried to operate it, but strangely for some reason I had a strange feeling that it wouldn’t work anyway, like a deja vu moment, acquired knowledge from where I do not know. I don’t recall the other male coming down into the sewer, but I see him now stood near the valve, and suddenly a huge octopus like tentacle emerged from the sludge around his feet, it’s pink in colour with small yellow sucker pads all over it. The tentacle is around 7 foot in length, and it begins to attempt to restrain the other male, coiling around him. He is crying out, striking at the tentacle with what appears to be a knife. I do not assist, simply observe. The tentacle retreats. I turn away momentarily, and when I look back, the male is gone.

I am looking for something, I do not know what exactly. I see the white wardrobe from my bedroom in an alcove, beside a small square desk with a strange box atop it, covered in odd markings and symbols. I open the wardrobe doors,  in hindsight too easily given that the water level is so high, but I did not pick up on this at the time. There is a chest high shelf inside the wardrobe, and 5 drawers beneath the shelf. I begin pulling piles of neatly folded white and grey clothes from the shelf and chucking them into the sewage, frantically looking for something; I don’t know what. I clear the shelf, and then begin opening and searching the drawers. Each time I feel satisfied that there is nothing of interest amongst the clothes, I tear the entire drawer out and discard it behind me in the sewer water. I get through around 3 of the drawers before turning away for some reason, I think I can just sense a presence?

There behind the valve in the darkness I can make out the face of the octopus, staring at me menacingly. I wake up.

Nicotine Dreams: Racing and Loss

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was sitting on a motorbike, racing through tight confined streets closely behind my brother in a sports car which I cannot identify now. We were the only one’s there. I don’t know why we were racing, we just were? I was trying to keep up but he was handbraking and drifting around corners effortlessly, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt that obscured my vision, forcing me to slow down until I could see again.

We were darting between buildings, up alleyways, kind of like the Monaco Grand Prix. We emerged from an alleyway into a large arena floor which was marked up as a race track; there were black and white chevron direction signs, orange barricades and smoke beacons for guidance, kind of like light green flares? My brother disappeared into a corner and I pursued. 

I got lost seeking him, everywhere looked the same and I kept taking wrong turns, then having to retrace my path and try a different way. I would move into a dark area of the city I didn’t recognise which would be intimidating and suffocating, then return and try a different route.

Eventually I came around a corner and could see a bright sunny sky filtering down onto a smoke beacon. I raced past it but my brother was nowhere to been seen, and then I awoke.

Nicotine Dreams: Explosives and Value

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I was lay on my stomach in a small room, the floor of which was a country. I had partial control over what was happening, like an overseer, a God? The was another like myself there, though he seemed more my opposite, like the devil, Satan?

Toward the far wall was a large pile of gunpowder, explosive, and yet I acknowledged somehow it held great value financially. In comparison to the country, the gunpowder was comparable to an entire mountain range. There was an incomplete train track that resembled that of Duplo when I was a child, that spidered across the majority of the floor between the hills, valleys and towns. A lone train carriage was steadily chugging around the track, slowly meandering towards the gunpowder, intent on destruction. I don’t know why, but I understood that if the train carriage reached the gunpowder, the country over which I was observing would be destroyed.

I was working quickly, attempting to divert the train tracks away from the gunpowder, though simultaenously the other figure was working against me, undoing my will and beckoning the disaster. As fast as my hands placed the sleepers to guide the carriage away, the other figure would replace them provoking carnage. When the train carriage was nearing the gunpowder, the other figure vanished, leaving me alone void of the time or skill to counter the situation.

I surrendered to the knowledge that the explosion was imminent and that I had failed to prevent it sufficiently, and in a bid for damage limitation I lay atop the gunpowder and forcefully kicked the train tracks away from myself, angrily and defiantly. The train carriage fell from the tracks and disappeared from sight before a small explosion was noted away from myself.

The other figure reappeared and questioned my actions without speaking, it was like communication through telepathy? I could not explain why I had done what I did. I sensed that the financial and physical damage caused by my actions was lesser that which would of happened had I not, and this was suitable justification for myself. The other figure disappeared again, and then I too faded from that place, and awoke in my bed.

Abuse

 Anger is not an excuse.

Boredom is not an excuse.

Loneliness is not an excuse.

Stress is not an excuse.

Generosity is not an excuse.

Humiliation is not an excuse.

Choice is not an excuse.

Frustration is not an excuse.

Bereavement is not an excuse.

Celebration is not an excuse.

Peer pressure is not an excuse.

Depression is not an excuse.

Addiction is not an excuse.

Fear is not an excuse.

Curiosity is not an excuse.

Grief is not an excuse.

Experimenting is not an excuse.

Rejection is not an excuse.

Anxiety is not an excuse.

Recreation is not an excuse.

Reminiscing is not an excuse.

Jealousy is not an excuse.

Betrayal is not an excuse.

Unfaithfulness is not an excuse.

Hurting is not an excuse.

I’ve lied to myself and pretended that all the above are excuses, that they justified foolish choices and stupid mistakes.

I’m stopping lying now, you probably should too.

You are better than that.

Promise

 I have addictions, but they can be overcome.

I have problems, but they can be solved.

I am lonely, but I can find company.

I am weak, but I can find strength.

I am out of shape, but I can train.

I am broken, but I can be fixed.

I am lost, but I can be found.

I do not need cigarettes, they only sedate me.

I do not need drugs, they only subdue me.

I do not need alcohol, it only harms me.

I owe this to my friends.

I owe this to my family.

I owe this to my child.

Most of all though?

I owe this to myself.

I will be better.

The Quit List

This is something SWIM has been doing subconsciously for the last year. SWIM’s been identifying problems systematically in their life and seeking to eradicate them.

So far, SWIM’s list is:

01. Amphetamines

SWIM used to use amphetamines (billy, speed, phet, whizz) in the past during their “off the rails” days. SWIM can happily say, they’ve not had it now since 30/07/11.

02. Ketamine

Ketamine? Just say neigh. Horse tranquilizer; SWIM has dabbled. K-holes are not fun in SWIM’s opinion. SWIM last had this alongside the aforementioned Amphetamines to take the edge off. Not had either since the same night, 30/07/11.

03. MDMA

Obviously, SWIM is aware MDMA is found in ecstasy; the MDMA this refers too is the powder type that SWIM either sniffs/gums. Last encounter was at Creamfields last year 27/08/11, and SWIM won’t be bothering again.

04. Cannabis

SWIM was once a very close friend of cannabis (weed, ganja, pott, green), but they substituted off it for harder stuff. SWIM doesn’t have any interest in it anymore, it really does fuck all for SWIM. Last had it 29/10/11 before SWIM’s works Halloween Party; doubt SWIM will ever have it again.

05. Ecstasy

Ecstasy was a more occasional drug of choice for SWIM, you’re talking raves, gigs and festivals. SWIM had it at DJ Caspa up Keele University back 06/11/10; steered clear until Creamfields 29/08/11, and had their last encounter at SWIM’s works Xmas Party 10/12/11. SWIM is not going back there again.

06. MXE

Methoxetamine was something SWIM only experimented once; and won’t be having again. A designer drug described as “rhino-ketamine”, ‘Mexxy’ was legal when SWIM sampled it. SWIM can’t lie, they describe the feeling as going to Heaven, the most free they’ve ever felt; nirvana. Disassociative and hallucinogenic. SWIM tried it 10/12/11 the night of their works Xmas Party; hoping to never have again, however personal possession and use is still legal.

07. Cocaine

SWIM’s love/hate relationship. Never been easy to avoid, but SWIM is doing well lately. Since SWIM fell hard into the love of white powders, they found coke to consume them. There was once a time SWIM was using this daily. Actually daily too, not even an exaggeration; SWIM spent £8,000 on it in a month. Seriously. SWIM is doing well at avoiding it lately; they slipped up 04/06/12 at a Jubliee Party, but prior to that, it’d been a good couple of months clear for SWIM. Trying with all their strength to avoid this fucker.

08. Mephedrone

This has been a substitute of sorts, SWIM has managed to body swerve cocaine on numerous occasions, by ending up on this. Most will know it as MCAT, a research chemical drug that peaked in popularity in the last couple of years due to it’s legality. It’s not as bad (see classification/price) but again SWIM is attempting to avoid in it’s entirety. SWIM had some of this as recently as 04/07/12 after a having their head fucked over the situation with the Mother of their unborn child. SWIM looks back disgusted the following day every time; SWIM guesses it’s just their coping mechanism after all the shit they’ve come through? But SWIM knows it’s now beyond the time to leave this in the past also and learn to deal with shit like an adult.

09. Cigarettes

Go figure. SWIM has managed to leave hard drugs behind, and yet cigarettes fuck them up. SWIM is now on their third attempt at quitting, but with more determination than ever before. SWIM has had no cigarettes since 06/07/12; they intend to keep it that way.

10. Facebook

This is SWIM’s most publicised addiction. If people know SWIM, people know SWIM lives on Facebook. SWIM used to document every aspect of their life; every bad decision, stupid choice, foolish error… now, in order to better themselves, SWIM is refraining from public eyes. SWIM deleted their profile 08/07/12. 

SWIM is a quitter; but ironically that is what will make SWIM a winner.

SWIM can be a better person.

SWIM will be.

<3 

Wanting

I want to be happy. I want to be wanted. I want to be needed. I want to fall hopelessly in love, and it to be reciprocal. I want to be at peace with my past. I want to accept everything that has happened. I want to make amends for my wrongings. I want to make everyone proud. I want to be the perfect Dad to my daughter. I want to be a good person. I want to change. I want to be different. I want to feel fulfilled, not broken. I want to be successful. I want to be emotionally stable. I want to be helped. I want to be reassured I’m not a failure. I want to be held. I want to be comforted. I want to be in control. I want to be free.

I want to not be ‘me’.

Nicotine Dreams: Hypnagogia and Fear

This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.

I awoke with no real recall of my dream as such, more just a noteworthy experience on waking.

I was lying on my back and the room was pitch black, and I could hear breathing, shuffling, like a small animal against my right arm. It was slowly moving alongside me up towards my face. I couldn’t see that the bedroom door was open, but I could sense it; and I felt there was an evil presence here.

My mind was racing, envisioning a malevolent shadowy figure stood at the foot of my bed. My heart was pounding, racing to the point I felt it was going to explode out of my chest. All I could think was that there was a knife beside my bed that I could use for defence, if only I could reach it. But I was paralysed?

I physically kept attempting to move, but all I could do was look around, the rest of my body was paralysed, not with fear, but with disassociation. I could hear the creature on the bed sniffing, sort of resembling a dog when it’s trying to follow a scent. The figure was still stood watching. I was lay there exposed and vulnerable.

And then it passed. The sounds and feelings of being watched relented. I sat upright aware that the room was empty of life besides myself. And everything was silent and still; as it should be.

And this was my first recalled experience of hypnagogia.